


Taste of the City

by stifledlaughter



Category: Deep Dish Nine - Fandom, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Deep Dish Nine, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stifledlaughter/pseuds/stifledlaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak gave Julian incredibly thoughtful gifts. And now it was up to Julian to reciprocate - but how? </p>
<p>Deep Dish Nine AU, inspired by Tinsnip's <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3232184">"i carry my torch of bright stars"</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste of the City

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i carry my torch of bright stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232184) by [tinsnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/pseuds/tinsnip). 



> If you haven't read Tinsnip's work, Garak gave Julian a very thoughtful gift, and this leaves off directly from where her work ended. I'd highly recommend checking it out - it's ["i carry my torch of bright stars"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3232184).

Julian stood there as the door closed, the warm soup in his hands, dumbfounded.

It was _incredibly_ crappy out. Icy wind, sleet, rain, everything that Garak despised. There was no way that Garak had such important errands that absolutely had to be done during this atrocious weather.

So… if he wasn’t being vain, or aggrandizing his self-importance… did Garak really go out in the awful weather just for him?

“Don’t be stupid,” he said aloud to the uncaring wooden door. “I mean, really.” He turned to someone who might care a bit more, Kukulaka there in the corner of the bookshelf, watching with wise eyes. “Right, Kukulaka?”

Kukulaka, despite his years of wisdom, didn’t offer terribly much on the subject except the usual sympathetic look sewn onto his face. Julian headed over to his tiny table and set the soup down, getting out a bowl to quickly heat it up in while mulling over the situation.

Garak gave incredibly thoughtful gifts  - the cashmere scarf on their “second” date, for example, was something he didn’t even think he needed. But now he wore it constantly and it was becoming a part of his winter ‘look’ for sure. (Although when he wore it with his jacket that Jadzia had nicknamed “the bus seat jacket” it did clash slightly and he tried to avoid wearing the two together around Garak).

And now this soup, his favorite stress reliever, right when he was panicking about exams, and Garak had picked up on the state of his fridge, his timing after work, his exam schedules… all to culminate to a great gift. A perfect, thoughtful gift.

He had to reciprocate somehow. But what gift could so perfectly match this one? Or the others?

\------------

Thursday nights were movie nights, because Julian had labs all day and needed a break, and Garak scheduled his commissions specifically so that he never had to stay late at the shop on those days. They had settled into the couch comfortably, Julian keeping the two inches he always kept between them down to the exact eighth-inch apart. It would have been nice, maybe even good, to close that gap and just comfortably rest there, like he sometimes did with Jadzia or Ezri, the warmth of a friend just sometime what’s needed after a long day.

But with Garak, it sometimes felt that maybe that his closeness wasn’t welcome – or rather, there was reason to keep a distance. He couldn’t quite pin it – was it a Cardassian thing? An older man thing? Maybe he thought Julian would rumple his jacket?

“I’m glad the library had this – there aren’t tons of Cardassian classics there, and you said this was one of the best adaptions of Verota’s works to screen to date,” commented Julian as the main two characters met and, as with most Cardassian films, began a long and complicated dialogue, assessing each other’s strengths and weaknesses with harsh, striking words and subtle insults. “You said this won three awards the year it came out?”

“Indeed- best actress, best supporting actor, and best screenplay,” specified Garak, sitting up with a prim, set up back as opposed to Julian, who was doing a perfect impression of tilted Jello sliding out of a mold in the fridge, slumped over on the couch, images of cell cultures and DNA strands still running through his mind.

He groaned, trying to get rid of the words swimming in his head, and did a little shake of his head to get the pictures of flashcards out of his head. “Ugnfff…”

“Everything alright?” questioned Garak, raising his eyebrow at Julian’s actions.

Julian realized he was possibly being rude, and he definitely didn’t want to appear that in front of Garak, of all people. “Ah – sorry – long day with labs. Present company is helping, though,” he added with a wide smile. “You haven’t said ‘Biosafety Level’ or ‘subculturing’ to me once, which is a vast improvement over all of my classmates and TAs today.”

“Glad to be of service,” replied Garak with a slight smile in return and a very light nod of the head. “Hm, you may want to pay attention to this part – it differs from the book in several ways.”

Julian snapped to attention, hoping that this could lead to more discussions between them about _Like the Regnar_ , his favorite book of Verota’s. They’d discussed it and the sequels endlessly, but he loved most of all how this was the one book that he had read into so much that even Garak admitted that Julian had a few “not technically incorrect alternate views of the events portrayed”, which was a fairly high compliment from a Cardassian.

The two women onscreen were on a busy street in the capital city of Cardassia, Kardasi-or, standing outside of a food cart, one of them offering to buy the other whatever food was inside of it. “Since you haven’t the taste to understand true Kardasi-or style food, I will educate you,” says the older one with a sniff. “You come from the northern continent – so I understand if your tastebuds are, hm, frozen.”

The younger one, the to-be protégé of the older one, snips back, “Then educate me – all theory and no practical application makes a weak student of truth.”

The older one proceeds to purchase what appears to be a sort of rice, vegetable, and yamok sauce mixture in a small bowl. “The vegetables – seasonal and only grown on the edges of the city, feeding off of the rain that is so rare in our beloved city. The rice, made with water from the river, the lifeblood of the city, and the sauce, simmered for days in the exact humidity the city lingers at – this is _tuhm-kyr,_ true Kardasi-or sustenance. Once cannot claim to live in this city and not know their best _tuhm-kyr_ seller on their street.”

“Is it really that big of a deal?” asked Julian, who had leaned closer to read the quickly passing subtitles – Cardassians spoke so fast in these films, especially when bickering, which was quite a bit of the time. “Is it like  - I guess, the Federation and root beer?” For some reason non-Federation citizens seemed to think that the national beverage of the Federation was root beer, and it had stuck, even to the point of Federation Day festivals having root beer tasting contests. Julian felt it was a bit overblown but understood the sentiment, at least.

“Even more so. She was describing how you can’t have _tuhm-kyr_ anywhere else – that it is truly the food that can only be made, tasted, and loved in that city alone, based on what it takes to make it. Any imitation would be a poor replacement, and even though the base would taste the same, all of what went into it would never taste like what it would if you were in Kardasi-or and buying from the vendor on your street, the one you’ve known since childhood.” Garak’s voice had taken a rather wistful turn, and Julian, even at the risk of missing subtitles, turned to look at him.

Garak was looking at the screen still, eyes unblinking, and Julian noticed he wasn’t actually watching the center of the screen where the women were- he was scanning over the edges, the buildings, the shops, the streets. Reading a book about home was one thing – seeing it was completely different, and Garak was still composed but his eyes were sadder, flickering around to watch different parts of the screen, a shop window with pastries inside, the spiked arcs of building roofs, and warm glow of the red sunset reflecting over the deserts surrounding the city.

He didn’t really ever mention missing Cardassia – if anything, he occasionally remarked that he couldn’t get some movies or books as easily as he could have had he were in Cardassia, or that it was terribly cold here, but never in an overly emotional context. Julian had pieced together from the breadcrumb-clues that Garak left him during their conversations that he was most familiar with the capital city of Cardassia, possibly grew up there or at least spent part of his childhood there, and identified strongly with the politics of that region.

But that was all superficial, where one spent time. What he missed beyond easily accessible cultural media and a familiar climate, something any expatriate would miss, had been harder to guess.

If it had been Ezri or Dax missing Trill, he would have hugged them and given them an encouraging “Well, next time you’re there, you can do everything you miss now!” sort of pep talk, but he couldn’t do that with Garak. There wouldn’t be a next time, he’d surmised. If Garak truly wanted to go back and actually could, he would have. Something was stopping him, although Julian hadn’t worked up the courage to ask what.

But to help - what about the hug? Maybe? He’d only be breaking the two inch barrier for a moment – a little moment, not even a big one. They’d hugged before. It would be fine. Really.

Julian ignored the happy spark in his stomach when he thought of hugging Garak, the kind that used to happy with alarming frequency with Jadzia or Palis. It couldn’t be the same. Right? Helping a friend, that’s what this was.

Garak had been watching Julian during this thoughtstorm. “ _Lek_ for your thoughts, my dear?”

Julian looked at his friend’s face, carefully constructed to not reveal the sadness he knew was there – he knew better now, much better than from when they first met – and leaned over, and hugged him, hard.

Garak stiffened, but Julian didn’t pull away. Julian couldn’t see Garak’s fast, and the only things that he heard were the quick chattering of the Cardassian women onscreen as they (presumably) discussed each other’s faults. Slowly, Garak relaxed and moved to pat Julian’s back, and Julian pulled back. “I – ah – well, thought you needed it.” He couldn’t explain why, but he hadn’t moved back to re-establish the two inches he had set at the beginning of the night.

“I’m fine, my dear.” Garak said, slightly off-balance but not unwelcoming of the contact. “But I appreciate your concern, but truly, no need to worry about me. Now- this part you may remember from being in a train station in the book, but they’ve put it in an airport in this adaption, which makes the reunion scene a bit different…”

Perhaps the two inches were an unnecessary, and Julian stayed where he was, not leaning over and hugging Garak but slowly pressing up against him softly.

Warm, he noticed. Despite his complaints of the cold, Garak was quite warm. It was… well, nice.

Julian turned his attention back to the screen, watching lovers reunite in an airport as the two inches between them disappeared, eighth-inch by eighth-inch.

\------------------

“And you all remember – we have no class next week, I’ll be giving lectures abroad and expect you all to post to the class blog your reflections on “ _Shalestone_ ” and “ _Tower by the Sea_ ” by the time class would have ended Tuesday and Friday. Dismissed!”

Julian pushed his chair back, wincing slightly at the loud screech – his hearing was overly sensitive- and walked up to the professor, his hands full of the books they were to read next week. “Professor Lang– can I have a moment?”

She turned to him from shuffling with papers on the desk and smiled. “Ah, Julian, yes. How can I help you?” She knew Julian better than the average student – her son, Marcus, was an acquaintance of his, and Julian paid more attention than most students in class to the Cardassian texts that were assigned.

“I was wondering – you wouldn’t happen to be traveling to Kardasi-or, would you?” Since she had mentioned she would be travelling a few days ago, he had mulled over an idea in his head.

The perfect gift for Garak – if he could swing it, that is.

“Yes, I’ll be giving two lectures at the main university in the city. My last leg of the trip, actually. Is there a book that you would like me to pick up while there?”

“Actually, no. There’s something else….”

\--------------------------------

“The D6 departs Alpha City International Airport for Alpha City Main Station in ten minutes,” announced the bus depot manager, leaning back in her chair in her booth. “Ten minutes. The next one, forty minutes.”

“Crapcrapcrap,” muttered Julian, darting through the crowds of people, glancing at his watch.  Professor Lang should be at baggage claim by now, and presumably had gotten through customs without a hitch- hopefully, that is. You can never tell with Federation security protocols, depending on what country you were coming from.

“Where is she…” he muttered, glancing around the terminal. “This is the correct terminal- right?” He looked at the text from her, triple-checking. “Ugh… I don’t want to be late to meet Garak…”

“Julian!”

He whipped around, and saw her standing over near a taxi-call-stand out of the way of the masses of people trying to cluster near the baggage claims.

“Here – you don’t want to miss the next bus – I’m meeting someone during their layover so I’m not in a rush. Here you go.” She handed him a plastic-bag-wrapped item, heavy, full. “I just got it in the terminal before boarding started – it should be warm still, if the container is doing its job.”

“Thank you so much – here-“ He gave her a sizable amount of cash and smiled hugely. “God-  he’s really going to appreciate this – thank you so much-“

She laughed. “It’s fine – go Julian – you’ll miss the bus!”  

He turned and sprinted, holding the precious cargo in his hands, busting through the doors and leaping onto the bus mere seconds before the driver roared the vehicle to life and chugged towards the city.

Julian was breathing heavily, holding the package to his chest, feeling its warmth spread through his fingers and through his coat.

His fingers were trembling, and not because of the run.

\---------------------------

Garak was puttering around his apartment, cleaning up before Julian came over. The med student had been oddly nervous over the phone – “I’ll try and be there at 6:00 but I’ll let you know if I’m running late-“ and there was the loud whoosh of a bus in the background as the voicemail ended. Curious, but not worrying. Garak looked over the little living room once more – yes, movie was set up, pillows were settled comfortably, and Julian’s favorite mug for tea was prepped and ready.

There was a loud knock on his door, and Julian’s voice, “Hi Garak!” He sounded slightly frazzled, Garak noticed, but perhaps he’d had a rough day of classes?

Garak opened the door and saw Julian standing there, not stepping in, holding a large plastic-bag-wrapped bowl-shaped item in his hands. His hair was more poofed and curly than usual, and he was breathing a little heavily.

“Come in, come in,” urged Garak, ushering him in. Julian went and set the item down on the table and turned to Garak, nearly vibrating with energy. “What’s going on?”

“Just – just open it?” Julian stammered, his fingers twisting around, grasping at each other, looking for something firm to grab onto and steady themselves with, but only finding each other. “I – well – just –“

“Of course, of course,” said Garak, realizing that it was a gift and perhaps Julian was nervous he wouldn’t like it. “What merited this gift?”

“Well, you’ve given me the scarf and the soup – it’s my way of saying thanks, really.”

“I appreciate it, my dear, but no thanks were needed-“ but he stopped dead there when he unwrapped the plastic bag and pulled back the plastic wrap that had been hiding the scent of the item.

The plastic takeout-bowl had Kardasi letters written over it, and while Julian couldn’t read them, he assumed what they said, and judging by Garak’s sharp intake of breath, he was right.

“How…” breathed Garak, who hesitantly, reverently, peeled back the lid and closed his eyes as the smell hit him. “Oh. _Oh. Julian_ …”

Julian again ignored the happy spark that had lit to a lightning bolt in his stomach at the way Garak said his name. “It’s _tuhm-kyr_ , isn’t it? Did I do it right?” _Please, please…_

“Yes – but- how? How?” Garak’s loss for words was astounding, and his normally pale cheeks red with warmth, and he held the bowl to his face, breathing in the scent of the dish, and his eyes fluttered open. He set it down and turned to face Julian, and, like his were earlier, Julian noticed, Garak’s steady hands were trembling.

“My professor – Professor Lang, the literature teacher – she was in Kardasi-or for lectures and I asked her -  I remembered, during the movie – and I thought – I thought –“ Words, words, tumbling, and nothing was right with them but it was all right, it was perfect, Garak was smiling, hugely, his eyes wide and warm, so blue, and the lightning bolt in Julian’s stomach split and scattered across his body, electrifying him when he saw the look Garak gave him.

“You have no idea what you’ve done for me, Julian, truly... I haven’t had this dish in years- it means the world to me that you remembered that, that you would go to this trouble for me, my dear.” He slowly walked over to Julian and very gently took the student’s hands in his own, holding them softly, looking into Julian’s eyes. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure,” said Julian, realizing that the words weren’t a formality-  it was his pleasure to make Garak happy, to give him a bit of home when the tailor had so little of it available.

“Please… share with me.” Garak let go of Julian’s hands, and Julian realized that he hadn’t wanted to let go, and that the electricity in his body was sparking and leaping, focusing at the locus of where Garak’s hands had held his.

“Oh- I couldn’t, really, Garak-“

“ _Julian.”_ There it was again, the voice so full of emotion, normally so reserved, and Julian shivered, the electric storm rippling under his skin. “I want to share this with you.”

And so they did, silverware in hand, taking scoops out of the container, Garak’s face lighting up with every bite, only the clinking of their spoons breaking the comfortable, happy silence of the apartment.

 To Julian, it was delicious, a tasty, filling meal. But he looked at Garak, who held the receipt in his hands, reading and re-reading the words on the container, looking at each spoonful with a beatific smile, he knew it was so much more.

After the last bit of sauce had been scraped out of the bowl, Garak settled back, smiling, shaking his head slightly. “I still can’t believe it. You’re… wonderful, Julian. Thank you.”

Julian smiled, and, impulsive from the myriad of sparks leaping around inside of him from the way Garak said his name, reached forward and rested his hand on Garak’s. “Again, my pleasure.”

Their hands were no longer trembling. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was directly inspired by when I lived in Berlin and my boyfriend in Paris, and every time I visited him I would go buy donuts from Dunkin Donuts (which they didn't have in Paris), take them on the plane in my backpack, and upon arriving at the airport/train station give them to him, still delicious (if a bit squished).


End file.
